


The Human Mind is the Final Frontier

by orphan_account



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dissociation, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22237279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Javier Pena x ReaderJavier knows what it's like to have killed your first person. the circumstances of yours, however, might damage your mental stability forever.
Relationships: Javier Pena/Original Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	The Human Mind is the Final Frontier

_ Nothing prepares you for the real thing,  _ you think, chest heaving and breath heavy. The gun in your hands suddenly feels like a weight too much for you to handle, but you keep your grasp tight and aimed at the figure unmoving on the pavement. There’s ringing in your ears and the light of the setting sun hurts your eyes and a dull ache is spreading over your head like a cap. It’s not until the shouting of your name uncoils your body from the spring it’s been set in that you focus on something other than—

“Hey,” Javier says, hand light on your shoulder as he uses the other to slowly push your gun down, “we gotta head back to the Embassy.”

“What about the body?” you ask in response, though the words feel like bile in your throat, burning all the way up.

He pries your fingers from around the trigger. “The local police will deal with it.”

You’ve dissociated by the time he walks you to the car. The sirens, the chatter, all of it’s muffled as if someone has placed cotton in your ears. Time feels slow; with every movement you make you can see the residual image lingering in the air. You are not yourself, and you’re well aware of that. But you don’t want to be yourself right now. Because that means you’ll have to deal and you don’t want to deal. 

Questions were asked and you answered as detached and automatic as you could during the debriefing. If anybody noticed your obvious distress, they sure didn’t act like it. Although, you suppose they wouldn’t. In this kind of work, feelings have to be locked down. No hesitations. 

It’s not until everyone’s packing up their things and standing up that you realize the meeting’s ended and you’ve been dismissed. You’ve just pushed your chair in when Javier’s voice cuts through your swirling thoughts, “I can give you a ride home.”

“And just leave my car here?” you question, wanting to dismiss the unwarranted trouble.

“Yeah, I don’t trust you to drive.” He says it with such certainty, but all you can muster in retaliation is a slight look of contempt. “I’ll drive you back in the morning,”

You sigh, but relent, “Fine.”

It must be close to midnight now with the moon high in the sky and the stars twinkling about. The city’s become eerily silent for a Thursday night, almost as if it’s taking a moment of silence to mourn the loss of countless lives today, innocent or not. 

“Can I go home with you?” you blurt out, quite frankly unashamedly because you really don’t want to go home alone tonight. 

Javier eyes you as you lean against the window with your eyes closed and brows furrowed. “Of course,” he answers, concern lacing every word.

You spend the rest of the drive with closed eyes and focusing intently on every bump in the road in order to evade your own malicious thoughts. 

The neighborhood of Javi’s apartment is a deal louder and more active than yours, but the idea of knowing Steve and Connie are just conveniently upstairs soothes the anxiety currently coursing through you. Of course, there was that incident with their cat, but if you think like that then no place would feel safe to you. Not in Colombia at least. 

The inside is, honestly, as plain as you’d imagined it to be for a man, especially an agent, living alone. There are basic necessities and a few pictures of his previous life that you don’t care to snoop through right now dotting the walls and tables, but it’s… nice, comforting. 

You stand there awkwardly, though, as soon as he unlocks the door and throws his shit around with practice. But he soon turns back to you with a look in his eyes to let you know he hasn’t forgotten about you. “I’ll take the couch. My room’s down the hall, last door on the right. There’s a bathroom in there, too, if you wanna take a shower or something.”

You only nod with a forced smile as you follow his directions with every intent to wash away the day’s events. It doesn’t help mentally, but the hot water and steam do release the tension you’d been building for the past few weeks as you’d closed in on Escobar’s men. However, when you look down and see the water turned light pink as it drains away, your breath suddenly vanishes and flashes of your gun, the kid, him falling to the ground with a fresh wound in his stomach—

You stumble out of the shower, knocking toiletries and the towel wrack to the ground, kneeling beside the toilet and emptying your stomach of its contents. By the third time, you wretching has turned to painful dry-heaving and you physically can’t answer Javier’s distressed knocking and shouting. 

Luckily, you hadn’t bothered to lock the door, so when Javier turns the knob to open it only to see you naked and sobbing over the rim of the toilet, he’s stunned. But competent enough to grab the towel from the floor and wrap it around you for some sort of decency. He really doesn’t know what to do other than pry you away from the bowl and into his arms as soon as your stomach realizes it’s empty. 

He wants to blame the job, the work, the drug war, the entire fucking world, for fuck’s sake, but he knows exactly what good blaming shit does. Absolute jackshit. So, for now, all he can do is hold you tight in his arms and whisper, “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

It might not be, he knows that personally, but he has you. He can promise you that, at least. 


End file.
